


What Comes After the Mission

by AvrielleRogue



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvrielleRogue/pseuds/AvrielleRogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commander Shepard takes preparations for her missions very seriously, sometimes at the expense of spending time with Garrus. When she finally has time to rest, he wants to make sure he's there to help her relax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Comes After the Mission

He found her in the Shuttle Bay.

Shepard had a zen-like ritual that Garrus tried desperately to be sympathetic of, but it wasn’t always easy. On normal missions, Shepard acted the way he suspected the world saw her at all times: confident, perhaps brash, always getting the job done. But once he got to know her, Garrus noticed that more-critical missions, usually ones from Hackett or the Council, brought with them a ritual of focus even he couldn’t disrupt.

Days before, she spent her time reading up on dossiers and researching tactics in the silence of her quarters. She took her meals alone in the mess area, nose buried in a book, and spent the night prior on an intense cardio workout in the Shuttle Bay. When the mission was over, she returned there to blow off steam, this time concentrating more on muscle and flexibility. “Alliance Yoga,” he’d heard Kaidan jokingly call it.

But with her rigorous discipline came a loneliness that Garrus was never quite prepared for. It was his own selfishness, of course, but the Turian had been brought up to approach every assignment with equal stoic tenaciousness. He had his own schedule of training and researching, but a mission’s importance never came between him and a laugh over a meal or an indulgent vid the evening prior — not too late, of course. The routine was what calmed him, and although Garrus had once tried to convince her to rest, that the mission would succeed due to her years of training, she finally convinced him that he had his way, and she had hers.

Tonight, however, leaving his Commander to her ritual had left the Turian lovesick and aching for the attention of his mate, who had inadvertently ignored him in favor of a critical mission for almost a week.

He hadn’t meant to sneak up on her, but with Cortez off for the night, Shepard had been practicing her martial arts in the Shuttle Bay to blaring Earth music. It was so loud, the pneumatic whir of the door hadn’t caught her attention.

From the look of things, the practice dummy had really been asking for it. Sweeping crescent kicks arched into its rubbery head, hard enough to knock a carbon-based life form unconscious or wishing they were. Savage roundhouses connected with precision. Shepard made working out into an art form; a deadly dance. It was almost a shame her crack shot all but rendered the need for such melee finesse obsolete.

The song ended, and Shepard planted one last sideward blade kick into the dummy’s throat. Wiping her brow with the back of her hand, she started heading towards a towel draped over her open locker when she noticed Garrus standing by the terminals.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked. She was out of breath. Garrus noticed her skintight workout gear glistening as he slowly approached.

“Long enough to have ordered a new practice dummy from procurement.” He jerked a thumb sarcastically to the terminal behind him.

“Har har,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t get too close. I smell awful.”

“I beg to differ,” he purred, drawing her to him with a tight taloned grip. Her face flushed under the glow of sweat from her exertions, but the soldier’s face above her remained bemused, eyebrow raising slightly.  He knew she would never admit that his boldness fazed her. Knowing her secret modesty and tempting it anyway pulsed beats of passion throughout the Turian’s hard body. “You know, it’s been almost a week, Shepard.”

Her eyebrows suddenly softened in earnest regret. “Has it been that long? Jeez, I just couldn’t stop thinking about this —”

“I know.” Garrus grasped her shoulder and began guiding her back behind the lockers, by Vega’s weight bench. “I thought I might be able to help with your post-mission cooldown.”

This time, she couldn’t still her hesitance, although he could feel her heart pounding underneath her soft, supple skin.

“EDI can see us,” she whispered, narrowing her eyes in warning.

“Oh, EDI can always see us,” he said, voice lowering into little more than a growl.

Gazing into Shepard’s impossibly green eyes, Garrus couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He cupped his calloused hands around her head and brought her lips to his, tracing sensually along her tender pinkness with a pointed tongue before delving inside. Shepard melted into him, no longer the warrior here, but a goddess he intended to worship.

Drawing back, he gently applied pressure to her shoulders, lowering her to a seat on the weight bench below her. She began to lie backwards, but Garrus slipped a hand behind the small of her back and kept her sitting upright as he knelt before her.

“Garrus, I’m serious. I’ve been down here sweating for 45 minutes.”

He pushed a finger against her lips, and she smirked beneath it, as if acknowledging that she’d given him sufficient warning. Suddenly emboldened, she leaned forward with a jerk and took the rounded claw into her mouth, gently sucking on it. Garrus groaned and grabbed her thigh with his other hand, squeezing it urgently.

Passion simmered within him as he fought to not pounce on the woman, to take it slow, torturing her as he’d been tortured these last few days. He removed his finger and trailed it back around her ear. Shepard curled her cheek into his hand as he worked his other one closer to her center, tantalizingly close, but never sliding across the bundle of nerves he hoped was aching for his touch.

Garrus traced his finger gently down her neck and along her collarbone before applying pressure gently on her ribcage and pushing her backwards to lay on the bench. With one swift motion, he shucked off Shepard’s tight workout-gear bottoms, earning him a squeal of anticipation from her as he peeled them off her dangling feet and throwing them to the side.

Whatever scent she might have been worried about was so arousing, Garrus had to shake the thought of taking her right there from his mind once again. But if she could be disciplined, so could he. With little more warning than a tremble in his hands, Garrus crashed his mouth into to Shepard’s core, lapping long strokes along her succulent folds, parting them expertly with his pert tongue.

Shepard writhed beneath him, and he granted her an expert swirl around her sensitive nub before driving two fingers deep within her. Months of practice had quelled his worry of hurting her with his rough appendages, but luckily his warrior goddess liked it a little rough. All the same, Garrus curled his finger upwards as gently as he could. Shepard let out a gasp and reflexively brought a hand to her chest. Garrus could tell the days apart had taken their toll on his lover just as much as it had him. It wouldn’t be long now.

Hungrily, he ground his mouth against Shepard’s opening, working in tandem with his thrusting fingers. Shepard bore down with her hips, meeting his mouth and groaning with pent-up pleasure.

When she gasped out his name, Garrus pushed his fingers in as deep as they would go, flicking his tongue with frantic precision, tracing characters of the Turian alphabet over her quivering pearl until she could take no more. She bucked her hips with unbridled intensity, chanting his name in a whispered breath over and over as if it were a reverent litany.

“Garrus, I’m coming. I’m c—”

Her lover continued suckling, coaxing the orgasm from her and drawing it out as long as she could stand it. Shaking with ecstasy, she raked her fingers through Garrus’ fringe, tugging him upward a bit. He knew this meant she wanted to take his mouth in hers, to kiss him deeply as the waves subsided, but he persisted in reminding her how good he could make her feel.

“I can’t take it. I can’t… Garrus!”

The barked order of his superior jolted him back, and a tingle ran deep through his own pleasure center as he remembered how hot she could be when she dominated him, as well. He crawled up her body on the weight bench and planted kisses deeply along her jawline politely until she lifted his head in her hands to bring him to her lips once again as the waves of pleasure slowly subsided.

After a moment, Shepard let her head fall back to the bench, well and truly spent.

“If that’s the sort of payoff you’ve been plotting, I’m going to start taking on more critical missions.”

Garrus smiled conspiratorially back at her.

“You do what you need to do for the galaxy, Shepard, but every day you leave me aching is another minute I’ll keep you in rapture.”

She smirked back at him.

“Is that a promise or a threat?”

“You tell me.” He slid a rough finger over her sensitive bundle of nerves once again, and a squeal escaped her lips. It was all he needed to go on before “coincidentally” meeting her back in her Quarters after they had their evening meal. He had big plans for the rest of their night together.


End file.
